


Just a Dream

by scruffandyarn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Nightmares, Swearing, dream-torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scruffandyarn/pseuds/scruffandyarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was supposed to be a happy posting in celebration for me having 100 followers on my tumblr account.<br/>Apparently, my brain cannot do happy right now.<br/>I keep looking at this and thinking "what the f**k have I done?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Dream

The sound of your own screaming jolted you from your sleep. The moment your eyes opened, however, you craved the sweet escape that even your nightmares had provided you. Nothing on earth had prepared you for this kind of torture. 

“Welcome back.” The marred face you’d come to recognize as Lucifer’s was hovering over you. He smiled and straightened up, turning to the little surgical table he’d always had with him, every time he visited you. 

It was that damned smile that made you tense up. You’d been his captive long enough to recognize a few tells. When he shouted and snarled and bared his teeth at you, he would generally grow bored of torturing you after a while. At that point, he’d leave and you’d be left alone, whimpering in the dark. That smile, though—that smile meant that you were in for a much longer session. It meant that he was here to have fun.

The longest he’d gone on torturing you for information at one time was, according to him, seventeen years without any let-up. But Dean had survived thirty years of this literal hell-hole without giving in. You should at least be able to last for twenty-years without breaking. What kind of badass-hunter would you be if you couldn’t last even twenty measly years?

“Are you ready to tell me where your darling Sam is?” You looked over to see Lucifer gazing at what you recognized, thanks to your interactions with Cas, as an Angel Blade. But you weren’t an angel. What was that going— “Oh, I believe you’ll find that it can do quite a bit of damage to humans as well.” He released a flame from one of his palms and held the blade over it. He turned the blade in the flame until the pointed end began to glow.

Your entire being began to tremble when he brought the now orange-red-hot blade closer to you. His smile widened at the sight of your terror, even more so at the hiss that he heard when the blade made contact with your thigh. He ignored your screams in favor of inhaling deeply through his borrowed nose.

“The human Bible got so much wrong, but there really is nothing like the smell of burning flesh. Must be why so many of them believe I burn hot.” He yanked the blade from your flesh, taking with it a chunk of skin that had melted to it. “Now, where is Sam?”

“G-go…” you sucked in air, choking on the sulfur that clung to it, “go fuck yourself.” His smile faded into a small pout and he shook his head slowly.

“That hurt my feelings.” The flame reappeared in his palm and he began to heat up the blade once again. “Sticks and stones may break a bone, but words—your words are going to hurt you.” In the blink of an eye, he stabbed the Angel Blade through your chest.

 

You sprang up in bed, panting, on full alert. You scrambled out of bed as quickly as you could, trying to ignore the panic that set in when your blanket got tangled around your feet. Once you were free, you pressed yourself against the wall of your bedroom, trying not to hyperventilate.

“______?” A groggy voice called from a lump on the other side of the bed. Slowly, a head turned toward you and you could see Sam’s face, momentary confusion evident at seeing you out of bed and leaning against the wall. “Baby?”

“It—it’s him, Sam.” You whispered, hoping that Lucifer couldn’t hear you. “He’s l-looking for you.” With a level of grace that shouldn’t be found in someone so tall, Sam was on his feet and moving around the bed towards you.

“No, baby. He’s still in the cage.” This hadn’t been your first night of Lucifer-themed nightmares. Sam had the patience of a saint to be able to calmly bring you down from them every single time. “He’s not gonna get to me and he’s not gonna get to you.”

“But what if he does?” Your voice cracked as your tears began to fall.

“Even if he was out and he managed to get to me, there’s no way I’d say yes. What happened before was a one-time deal.” He reached out and let his fingertips brush against your arm.

He’d learned that trying to hold you directly after one of your nightmares about Lucifer would only end with you trying to take his head off. You’d always avoided telling him exactly what went on in any of these dreams, but when you’d managed to nearly take his eye out in your earlier struggles to get out of arms, he figured out that trying to hold you after dreaming about Lucifer was not a good move on his part.

“He’s trying to find you. He’s in my head.” At least once a month for the past six months, this is how you woke up. “What if he finds you because of me?”

“Then we’ll take him down.” He smiled softly. “You and me, along with Dean and Cas—Lucifer doesn’t stand a chance.” You nodded, letting his words and tone soothe and comfort you. “You wanna go splash some cold water on your face? Might help to clear your mind a bit.”

“OK.” His smile was reassuring. You trekked down the hall and into the bathroom, surprise in the back of your mind at the ease of your movements. With how real that nightmare had felt, you’d half expected a horrific gash on your leg. But no—it had all been just a dream.

You sighed at your reflection and turned on the cold water. You knew, in some part of your mind, that Lucifer was indeed, still locked in the cage with Michael, and regrettably, Adam. It was hard for your logical thoughts to come to the forefront of your brain after a nightmare, but maybe Sam had a point about the cold water.

Cupping your hands, you filled them with water and leaned down over the basin. You splashed the water against your skin. The cool temperature was just the shock your system needed, apparently, because you could already feel your nerves begin to settle. Sighing in relief, you stood up.

A scream bulldozed it’s way out of your lungs.

“Welcome back.” Lucifer’s wound-riddled face was where your reflection should have been. And he was smiling.

.


End file.
